The rain poured.

"Who . . . Who does that make you, then? Hell, who does that make me?"

"Me? I am a member of society, singled out by the stars themselves to do their bidding. Day by day I defy them, determined to take my life into my own hands, yet they spite me at every turn. I am to become a killing machine, a mindless weapon that serves a purpose as shallow as one's own reflection in a mirror, yet as important as the rising sun. The world won't end without me. Or it will, and I will try my best to defy Fate one last time. This is who I am.
Who are you? Possibly one of the masses, seeking your own individuality. Never stop questioning. Never accept another's opinion without finding out all of the facts - form your own. Most importantly, rule number one: never give up. You only lose if you give up. And in this world, winning is everything."

"But . . . No-"

I wheeled on them, then, and pointed the barrel of my gun at the center of their skull. My hand did not shake, my arm did not ache, my aim was steady.

"Rule number two: 'No' is never an acceptable answer."

I pulled the trigger.










Click.




They stared back at me with eyes as wide as the moon each.

"W-why . . . ?"

I sighed. "Again, my words fall unto deaf ears." I turned and holstered my weapon, before striding away. My last words to them were: "Next time, it'll be loaded."